


The Blue Moon

by kateandbarrel



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Community: vacationthon, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-22
Updated: 2011-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 10:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateandbarrel/pseuds/kateandbarrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Donna head to a space station for a little vacation, when things go awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blue Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to kungfuwaynewho for the beta! This fic was written for the prompt "Characters staying in a creepy motel" with a shade of "Any variation on the "forced to share a bed" theme" thrown in for flavor.

“So it’s a space motel?”

“It’s not a _space motel_. It’s a small space station that orbits a blue dwarf star. And you can get a room there.”

Donna raised her eyebrow.

“They’re very pretty, blue dwarf stars,” the Doctor replied off her look. “The station rotates and every room is guaranteed a view of it at least once a day. There’s also an observation deck! Special glass. So you don’t melt your eyeballs.”

“So, not a space motel.”

The Doctor grinned. “Right!”

“More like a... space cruise ship.”

The Doctor sighed and threw a lever. “We’re here.”

***

The interior of the station was not what Donna expected. Usually space stations - as the Doctor insisted on referring to it - had cold, grey metal walls and endless fluorescent lighting. Instead, this station looked as if it were an actual building on a planet surface somewhere.

A very _cheesy_ building. There were wood panelled walls, kelly green carpeting, and tiny sconces with pink shades at regular intervals on the walls.

“My first guess was right,” Donna said with a laugh. “It’s a space motel.”

The Doctor pretended not to hear her, and steered them to the front desk. 

Donna kept talking. “All the same, it’ll be nice to relax for a few days. All this running around. My feet are screaming for soothing hot soak.”

“That’s the spirit!” The Doctor grinned.

“Hello!” chirped a short woman in uniform behind the desk, just as they approached. “Welcome to the Blue Moon. My name is Thira. Do you have a reservation?”

“Ah, no, we don’t.”

“Well, you’re in luck! We had a cancellation earlier, so there is one free room.”

“Busy weekend?” Donna asked.

“Oh, no, it’s always like this!” Thira replied as she tapped away at the console in front of her. “Level J, room 8-H. How wonderful! That room has one of the highest paranormal readings in the whole station!”

“I’m sorry, what?” The Doctor did a double-take. “ _Paranormal_ readings?”

“Well, yes, of course. The station is haunted, after all.”

“ _Haunted?_ ” Donna asked.

“Since when?” asked the Doctor, his voice rising an octave in his confusion.

“Since... always, sir. At least as long as I’ve been working here.” Thira smiled reassuringly, and turned back to her console. “How will you be paying?”

“Er...” The Doctor shared a look with Donna, then pulled out his psychic paper and waved it in front of Thira, whose eyes widened.

“The Intergalactic Hotel Association!” she squeaked.

The Doctor sniffed and nodded, taking it in stride. “That’s right. We’re agents of the IHA. We’re here for a surprise inspection.”

“Yeah,” Donna chimed in, “we’re especially interested in the complementary things. You know, the little soaps and things, I love those - “

“Donna,” the Doctor cut in, warningly. Donna shrugged.

“Right,” the girl said, somewhat flustered now. “I, um - the Blue Moon would be more than happy to provide your room free of charge. How many nights?”

“Oh, let’s say three nights. Short trip!” The Doctor smiled.

After a few more taps at her console, Thira pulled out a pad from behind the desk and held it out to them. “Please put each of your primary digits here.”

“She means your index finger,” the Doctor said to Donna.

“I know what she means!” Donna rolled her eyes. Primly, she turned to Thira and pressed her finger onto the pad in her outstretched hand. The Doctor followed suit.

“Now, your unique prints are synced with your room lock. Is there anything else?”

“Yeah, exactly what kind of paranormal stuff are we talking here?” Donna asked. “Rattling of chains? Piercing screams in the night?”

“Well, every guest’s stay is a unique experience, but some common occurrences are messages appearing on the walls, strange sounds, and now and again even a _full-body apparition!_ ”

Donna looked skeptical. She’d travelled through space and time, seen other planets and all manner of aliens, but ghosts seemed too outlandish somehow. Especially in a _space_ motel. The Doctor sent her a look that said he was thinking along the same lines.

“Just one warning though. The spirits like to steal things.”

“Steal things?” Donna scoffed.

“Er, yes. We think they might be taking items that remind them of when they were alive.” Thira paused. “Well, if there are no more questions... enjoy your stay!”

***

“There’s one bed.”

“We’ll make do,” the Doctor said as he whipped out his sonic screwdriver and began scanning the room.

“ _Make do,_ ” Donna muttered, and considered informing him he’d be spending the night on the floor. Or in the TARDIS.

The Doctor finished his perusal of the room, having found nothing, and scratched his head. “What do you make of it, Donna?”

“Ghost robbers in a space motel.” Donna put her hands on her hips. “I think someone’s having us on!”

“Would you mind running back to the TARDIS? I need the trans-dimensional syncopater.”

“The trans-di-what? Why?”

“Well, if something’s really going on here, I’d like to find out what. It could be transdimensional beings, energy life forms, anything. The messages and noises might be them, whatever _they_ are, trying to communicate.”

“But not ghosts, right?”

“Unlikely. Probably.”

Donna raised an eyebrow. “Okay. What’s the trans-whatever look like?”

“It’s blue, and has whirry bits on the side. It’s in the console, the side that faces the door that leads to the wardrobe.”

“Right!” Donna sighed and headed towards the door. “One dimensional syncopation machine coming up.”

“ _Trans-dimensional syncopator,_ ” the Doctor corrected, but Donna had already left. 

***

The Doctor was destroying the room. Or at least, making it a complete mess. The paintings were pulled down from the walls, the mattress was shoved off the bed, the shades were off the lamps, and every grate covering the heating and air ducts were removed. The Doctor had searched every inch of the room and found nothing strange, whether man-made or not. No indication why so-called paranormal activities should be going on. 

The Doctor scratched his chin. He was stumped. But he was sure the trans-dimensional syncopator would help shed some light on the situation. 

As if on cue, the door beeped from the other side as Donna put her finger on the door lock, and opened a second later. 

“Great, Donna! Give me the -” He cut himself off when he caught sight of Donna’s empty hands.

“ _What_ have you done to the room?” Donna stared around, agog at the sight of everything having been torn apart in the ten minutes she was gone.

“Nevermind that, where’s the syncopator?”

“It... wasn’t there,” Donna attempted to say delicately.

“I told you, it’s in the _console_ -”

Donna cut him off. “The console wasn’t there either.”

“What?”

“The console wasn’t there because the _TARDIS_ wasn’t there. It’s gone!”

“Are you sure?” The Doctor’s voice went up an octave. What was going on?

“Yes, I’m sure. I do know what it looks like. Great big blue box and all that. It wasn’t where we left it. Feel free to go check if you like.” 

“C’mon!” The Doctor grabbed Donna’s hand and led the way out of the room again. “We’ve got to find it.”

They went back to where they’d left the TARDIS - Donna complaining the whole way that she wasn’t _blind_ for God’s sake - and the Doctor found exactly what Donna had said. No TARDIS. He waved his sonic screwdriver around, standing in the spot where the ship had stood, and found nothing. 

“I bet the ghosts stole it,” Donna remarked.

“Oh, we believe in the ghosts now, do we?” The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, thoroughly off-put.

“Well. Things-pretending-to-be-ghosts-but-are-potentially-from-another-dimension. Or whatever. The girl at the desk did warn us.”

“Yes, she did...” the Doctor trailed off, lost in thought. 

“Well, we’re not getting anything done standing around in a hallway. Let’s get back to the room. You have to fix the bed so I have somewhere to sleep tonight.”

***

It took them considerably longer to put the room back into order than it took for the Doctor to take it apart. After heaving the mattress back into place, Donna flopped down onto it. 

The Doctor went to the window and opened the shade. There was only the blackness of space in view. “In all this excitement, we forgot about the dwarf star.”

“Do you think the ghost robbers could have come from the star?”

“No.”

“Can the star help us find the TARDIS?”

“Well, no.”

“Then I don’t care.”

The Doctor turned to look at Donna, who had her eyes closed. “What, tired already?”

She opened her eyes and glared at the Doctor. “I’ve been awake for 20 hours! Forgive me for being human!”

The Doctor grinned. “I forgive you.”

Fortunately the Doctor’s reflexes were quite good, as he was able to duck just in time to avoid the pillow that sailed over his head. He retrieved it from the floor and tossed it back on the bed, following suit with his body, laying on the bed next to Donna. She rolled onto her side to face the Doctor and poked him in the chest.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m getting in bed!”

“I’m not sharing a bed with an alien! You can sleep on the floor.”

“Donna!” The Doctor looked offended. “The floor’s hard. And I’m feeling quite tired myself, actually.”

She huffed, too tired to really argue, and pulled the blanket out from underneath her to cover herself. “Fine. But you stay on top of the covers.” 

“Fine.”

“And no funny business. Hands to yourself, got it?”

“ _Yes,_ Donna,” the Doctor sighed.

“And turn off the lights.” Donna rolled over, facing away from the Doctor, determined to get a solid eight hours of sleep. At least the bed was fairly comfortable...

Donna found herself drifting off to sleep quite easily, the sound of the sonic screwdriver being used to turn off the lights barely registering.

***

When Donna next awoke, it was to a loud noise. She felt around in the dark for what her sleep-addled mind assumed was an alarm clock, but her hand came in contact with a face instead.

The noise stopped suddenly. “What - what is it?” came the Doctor’s sleepy voice directly in front of Donna.

“You. Were. _Snoring._ ” Donna grumbled.

“What? I do not snore.”

Donna laughed. “Oh yes, you do.” She watched as a blue light appeared out of nowhere - the sonic screwdriver, probably pulled from the Doctor’s jacket pocket - and was accompanied by its signature noise as the Doctor turned the lights back on. 

Donna blinked at the sudden brightness, and was about to laugh at the sight of the Doctor’s mussed-looking hair when something on the far wall caught her eye. “Doctor!” She pointed over his shoulder.

The Doctor sat up and turned around. “ _What?_ ”

“It looks like it’s a message.” Donna paused a moment. “To us.”

They both took it in. Scrawled across the wall, in bright red, with drips coming down in what appeared to be blood, were the words _Get out!!_

“I think that’s pretty clear,” the Doctor murmured. 

“That _looks_ like blood,” commented Donna.

The Doctor went up to the message and touched it with a finger. “Still slightly wet,” he said, and then tasted the substance.

Donna made a face. “I hate when you do that.”

“It’s not blood. Not from any carbon-based lifeform anyway.” The Doctor moved his tongue around in his mouth, analyzing the substance. “Yeah, that’s just paint.”

“Paint, like you get from the hardware shop?”

The Doctor wiped the rest of the red paint from his finger onto the wall. “Yep.”

“Well what kind of ghost robber needs to use paint?”

“Exactly. We don’t even need the syncopator. This is clearly being done by someone here on the station. In _our_ dimension.”

Donna stared at the message some more, then suddenly shuddered. “How come we didn’t wake up? _Someone_ must have put that there.”

“That’s a very good question.” The Doctor went over to one of the air vents and took a big sniff of the air coming out. He repeated the process at each of the vents in the room. “Gas.”

“We were gassed?”

“A very mild sedative. There are still traces coming from the ducts.”

“Well that’s horrifying.” Donna put her arms around herself, thoroughly creeped out by the idea of being sedated so much she slept through someone breaking into their room.

“Agreed.”

They were disrupted from their thoughts by a knock at the door. Donna opened it to find an attendant holding a tray. “Breakfast, ma’am! Sir! Compliments of the Blue Moon staff.”

Donna allowed the man to enter and set the tray on the table. As he straightened, he noticed the wall. “Oh, looks like you lot got a visit last night. How exciting!”

Donna crossed her arms. “Not really. It’s just -”

“It’s just our first night,” the Doctor cut in before Donna could say anymore. “We’re hoping there’s more.”

“Oh, there’ll be more alright.” The man winked at Donna, who recoiled slightly. “The spirits are very accommodating. They know how much people like getting scared.”

“Swell,” Donna said. 

The man touched his head to his hat, either missing her remark or choosing to ignore it, and backed out of the room. “Enjoy your meal!”

There was a click of the door and the attendant was gone. “Lovely people working here, really,” Donna said sarcastically and sat at one of the chairs. She pulled off the top of the tray to reveal something that sort of resembled eggs and sausage, only the eggs were sightly blue.

The Doctor peered over her shoulder. “Oh, those look like turanga eggs. Very good, high in protein.”

“Do I want to know what a turanga is?”

“A great big space chicken.”

Donna picked up a fork and poked at it. It didn’t smell too awful and she was starving, so she tried an experimental bite. “Not too bad, actually,” she said, and took another forkful. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“No,” the Doctor said. “Not hungry. When you’re done, let’s go to the observation deck. I want to talk to some of the other guests.”

“Alright.” Donna ate as much as she could, finally stopping when her innate revulsion to strangely colored eggs was no longer outweighed by hunger. 

***

After the hurried breakfast, the Doctor and Donna went to the observation deck, which was located in the middle of the station and the walls of which were fully made of the special protective glass. The guests were clustered around the side of the level where it was easiest to see the star, which Donna admitted to herself was actually impressive. She stood in awe of its swirling, fiery blue appearance for a moment. However, the Doctor was on a greater mission now, to solve the mystery of the ghost robbers, and Donna hardly had a chance to enjoy the sight of the star before the Doctor dragged her off to get into conversations with random people.

Most of them told the same story. They came for the ghosts, their walls were painted in blood (or so they thought, as nobody was mad enough to taste it, except the Doctor), they heard voices, and they had something stolen by the spirits.

“Gracious, yes, great big letters in _blood!_ Right across the wall! It was there when we woke up, wasn’t it, darling?” The “darling” in question nodded his head once his wife elbowed him in the stomach.

“I had a perfectly good suit hanging on the wall. Ruined.”

“Oh shush,” the woman laughed. “A small price to pay for such an amazing experience!”

The Doctor smiled obligingly. “Have you had anything taken?”

That question set the husband off, who slammed his hand on the table. “We had something stolen alright! My grandfather’s cufflinks. Made with the bones of an extinct ape from Terellia IV. It was worth a small fortune. Those bloody spirits couldn’t have taken something else?”

Donna raised an eyebrow, though she wasn’t really surprised. This was the third person they’d spoken to who’d had something worth “a small fortune” taken from them. 

The Doctor quietly thanked the couple - who barely acknowledged him as the wife was trying to convince her husband that the loss of his prized possession was worth the experience - and he and Donna left to confer quietly away from the guests. 

“I think we’ve heard enough,” the Doctor said, and Donna agreed.

“Everyone’s most valuable possessions go missing and they love it!” Donna scoffed. 

They headed back out of the observation deck and stepped into a lift. 

“Is that why they took the TARDIS? Because we had nothing else of worth?”

“It’s likely.” The Doctor crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the lift.

But Donna didn’t hear him, as a sudden booming voice reverberated around the small room. She clapped her hands over her ears at the loudness of it, though it didn’t seem to help. “What’s that?” she shouted.

The Doctor looked alarmed. “What’s what?”

“That _voice!_ Don’t you hear it?” 

“What voice? What’s it saying?” The Doctor stood in front of her and gripped her by the shoulders. “Donna, concentrate.”

She removed her hands from her ears, and listened.

_GETOUTGETOUTLEAVETHISPLACEIHATEYOUGETOUTGETOUT_

Donna shook her head. “It’s just saying it hates us and to get out. You can’t hear that?”

“No.” The Doctor stared at her.

“It’s inside my head? Oh, God,” Donna put her hands against her ears again, despite the futility of it.

The Doctor looked around the lift and then back at Donna. He grabbed her head and angled it to the side. “What are you -”

“Shh!” The Doctor put his head against Donna’s, lining their ears up. “I can hear it!”

“What?”

“It’s literally inside your head.” The Doctor backed up and waved the sonic screwdriver over her head, adjusted a setting, waved it again, and then there was blissful silence.

Donna leaned against the wall of the lift in relief. “What the hell was that?”

“A microtransmitter. It’s attached to the inside of your throat. Rather quietly, relatively speaking, but it reverberated through your eardrums, making it sound much louder.”

“How did a _microtransmitter_ get inside my throat?”

The lift shuddered to a stop and the doors slid open, on their level. 

“I think I know,” the Doctor said and strode out of the lift, Donna following close by.

Once in their room, the Doctor made a beeline for the table, where that morning’s breakfast was still sitting, having long gone cold. He pointed the sonic screwdriver at the untouched eggs meant for him, then poked at it with a fork.

“Look.” 

The Doctor held out the fork, which had a piece of blue egg on it, towards Donna. She peered at it, and could just barely make out a dark speck. 

“Is that it?”

“That should have been inside my throat. We would have both heard the voice and thought it was a ghost, I suppose. Booming voice from the afterlife.”

Donna put a hand to her throat. “Can it turn on again?”

“No, I deactivated it. It should fall off the lining of your throat within a couple days and pass through your system.”

Donna laughed and sat on the bed. “Ridiculous!”

“What?”

“It’s a space con.”

“A space con?”

“A con, _in space._ They steal your stuff, tell you it’s haunted, and scare you away with some voices in your head and fake blood on the wall before you look too hard!”

The Doctor grinned. “A space con.”

“Who do you think’s behind it?”

“Not sure. But I know where to start looking.”

***

“I’m telling you, sir, I don’t know anything about that!” squeaked Thira. The Doctor was leaning over the counter, his face mere inches from hers.

“Microtransmitter in the eggs. Sedative gas in the air vents. Threatening messages written on the walls in paint. Stolen valuables. You’re telling me you’re _completely_ unaware of what’s going on in this space station?”

Donna put a hand on the Doctor’s arm as the girl’s eyes were growing wet with unshed tears. The Doctor pulled back.

“I just work here, sir, I swear,” Thira said shakily.

“We’d like to see your boss,” Donna said calmly, but sternly.

“Yes, of course,” Thira looked relieved and shuffled off through a door behind the counter.

Donna sighed and leaned back against the counter. “You could’ve been a _bit_ nicer,” she said. 

“I’ll be nice when I get the TARDIS back,” the Doctor replied gruffly. 

After a moment, Thira returned, alone. She just stared at the Doctor, apparently afraid to say anything. 

“Your boss isn’t coming, is he?” asked the Doctor.

Thira shook her head.

“He’s gone to escape in a ship, hasn’t he?” 

Thira nodded her head.

“Donna! Let’s go!”

The Doctor ran off down the hallway, coat tails flying, Donna close on his heels. They arrived in the station’s ship bay, ran past the spot where the TARDIS _had_ been parked, to a big ship at the end which was just starting to turn on.

They slid to a halt in front of it, standing between the ship and the bay doors. The Doctor looked at the ship’s cockpit windows and held up a hand, signalling _stop_. When the ship made no indication of powering down, he took out his sonic screwdriver and pointed it around the guts of the ship. There was a bright spark and a hiss as some component or another came detached and started spraying hydraulic fluid all over the floor. A moment later, the ship shuddered and the ship bay went quiet as its engines died.

“C’mon out!” shouted Donna, thoroughly ready to give whoever was in there a verbal lashing for everything she’d had to endure over the past day.

There was silence in response, and Donna was about to march up to the side of the ship and start banging on the walls, when a hatch popped open and a ladder slid down. A moment later, a meek-looking old man climbed down the ladder. He turned to face them, looking somewhat ashamed.

“I’m sorry!” the old man croaked.

Donna took his appearance and demeanor in, and turned to the Doctor in astonishment. “This is the criminal mastermind behind the space con?”

“Apparently,” the Doctor said. He stepped forward and all but towered over the old man, who was hunched over, and in Donna’s estimation had to be somewhere in the neighborhood of eight hundred years old. Give or take a few hundred years. The old man looked up at the Doctor, and seeing the anger on his face, cringed back. “Where’s my ship?”

“S-ship?” the old man responded.

“Yes. Blue box? Has a light on top?”

“Oh, um,” the old man scratched his head. “I guess it’s in the storage room.”

“You guess?” Donna scoffed. “Don’t you know where you keep your own stolen loot?”

The old man looked defeated. “It’s not my ‘stolen loot,’ as you say.”

“Isn’t this your space station?” asked the Doctor.

“Yes! Well, it was. I ran the Blue Moon for decades. But I’ve been too old for a while now. So I’m here mostly to pass the time away. My granddaughter runs it for me now.”

“Your granddaughter,” the Doctor repeated softly. “Oh, we’re stupid. Donna, we’re so stupid.”

“Thira?” asked Donna.

“That’s her,” the old man sighed. “She’s made a few changes. Put together the whole ghost theme. I thought it was ridiculous, but it seemed to work. There’s been more guests here the past few years than there has been in a long time.”

“But then you found out about the real money-making scheme,” the Doctor said, urging him to continue.

“It was by accident. I was on the wrong level - I get a bit confused sometimes, you know - but what I thought was the kitchens was actually the store room, two levels above. Inside were shelves full of, of...”

“Stolen goods,” Donna supplied.

“It seemed that way, yes. Jewelry, lots of electronic gadgets, personal shield devices, antiques. I confronted my granddaughter about it.”

“What did she say?” asked the Doctor.

“She said that I was a crazy old man and that no one would believe me, so I should just be quiet about it.” The old man sniffed and cleared his throat.

Donna went over to him and put an arm around his shoulders, reminded dimly of her own granddad. She thought of Thira, conning hundreds of guests and treating her granddad badly, and she grew angry. 

“C’mon, Donna, let’s go find Thira,” the Doctor said. 

“She’s probably long gone by now, I’d say,” the old man said. “She told me I was a distraction. I don’t even know how to fly that thing. There’s a small ship in the staff ship bay, that’s where she was headed.”

***

The front desk was, predictably, empty. The Doctor and Donna made their way through the back rooms to find the staff ship bay, which was also empty. 

“Long gone,” Donna sighed. 

“Let’s find the TARDIS,” the Doctor replied.

They found the kitchen level and went two more levels up, as the old man had instructed, and found the store room. Inside, as described, were several shelving units full of _stuff_. The shelves closest to the door were conspicuously empty. 

“Looks like she cleared out what she could before taking off,” Donna remarked.

“Ah, there you are!” the Doctor shouted happily. Glowing in the corner of the room was the TARDIS. He jogged over to it and laughed, running his hands over the door and sides. “Intact!”

“Doctor, take a look at this!” Donna said. She pointed as the Doctor came over. It was a computer console running what appeared to be a transporter program. 

The Doctor tapped at the keyboard under the console, bringing up a menu. “Look at this. Scanning software, scans for tech, precious metals, whatever you want it to scan for. And then just, _whoosh,_ transport it away. No one the wiser.” He hit a few more keys. “Here’s the history, yesterday - yep, right there: _1 type-40 TARDIS._ She probably didn’t even know what it was. Just took it because it seemed exotic.”

“Good thing she didn’t have room on her ship for it!” Donna exclaimed. 

“Mmm,” the Doctor hummed in agreement. “So what do you say? Shall we be off?” He pulled out his key and pushed open the TARDIS door.

“To infinity, and beyond!” Donna grinned. 

The Doctor shook his head. “No, no, no movie quotes, please.”

“Sorry,” Donna shrugged, and made her way into the big blue box.


End file.
